


Worship Me

by RedTeamShark



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Author Chose Not To Tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2019-09-12 04:36:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: Daddy wants you to do exactly what he says.





	Worship Me

**Author's Note:**

> Proper warnings, tags, etc, may come in the future. For the time being I'm frantically transferring my content to a stable platform amidst growing concerns about tumblr's inevitable implosion.
> 
> Apologies for flooding the fandom page.

Daddy wants you to do exactly what he says. Daddy wants you to be his good little boy.

You want to be good.

You want to be very,  _very_  good because when you’re good, when you do what Daddy says, Daddy gives you a reward.

Like right now, his hands running under your t-shirt, pulling it up and over your head. His lips on yours, soft kisses that don’t have any of Daddy’s usual demand. His fingers that link together with yours and squeeze, because Daddy loves you and sometimes he need to show it as much as you need him to show it.

“Michael.” Daddy whispers your name and you whimper, squeezing his fingers back. “Oh, Michael, you’re gorgeous. You’re my beautiful, perfect little boy.” His breath is warm on your flushed skin as he speaks, his words nearly swallowed by your mouth as you kiss him again.

“Daddy…” You breathe out in a shaky whimper, knees trembling as his hands leave yours. He lowers himself down your bare torso, lips caressing your skin, teeth nipping the familiar places where he marks you as his property. Instinctively your fingers thread through his hair, the messy dark locks sliding between your fingertips as his head moves. You don’t try to hold him or guide him and he hums in approval, knees hitting the floor, hands settling on your hips, just over your jeans. “Daddy, please…”

“You’ve been such a good boy for me, Michael.” He murmurs against your belly button (his mustache tickles and you squirm, barely hold in a giggle—later, you laugh from your belly at the remembered sensation and twirl that ridiculous handlebar mustache for him while he laughs along with you, because it’s absurd just how hot he looks with that stupid facial hair and you won’t let him get rid of it), tongue darting into the indented skin. “Such a good, good boy.” His hands on your hips slide around to your back, nails digging in and scraping down in a way that hurts so  _good_  you already feel like you’re losing control. Daddy’s touches aren’t always gentle, even when he’s rewarding you, but they’re always good when they’re rewards.

You like the days you’ve earned a reward.

Daddy undoes your jeans and they fall down your thighs to pool around your ankles. He reaches up, holding your hands to keep you steady as you step out of them, before leaning forward and nuzzling into the semi-erection pressing against the front of your underwear, the plain white briefs that Daddy almost always wants you to wear. His breath is warm and quick and even through the cotton covering your most intimate places it sets your skin on fire. His hands leave yours, grasping your hips again as you thread one hand into his hair and bite down on the fingers of your other hand to keep your noises quiet.

The quiet, however, isn’t what Daddy wants, not today. Today when you try to keep quiet he looks up at you, his disapproval frown on his face. His hand trails up your side and leaves shivers and fire in its wake; he leans up and cups your cheek, kisses your chest and shoulders as he pulls your fingers from your mouth. “It’s okay, Michael.” He whispers, pushing himself to his feet with some effort. “Today I want to hear your beautiful voice. I want to know just how much my beautiful little boy likes his reward.”

“Oh, Daddy…” You let out a small half-whine, pressing yourself closer to him, kissing him again. “Thank you, Daddy.” Both of you know just how loud you can get, and the quiet you try to maintain during these scenes runs counter to everything you usually do. To be told you can be as loud as you want… It sends pleasant shivers up your spine, your submissive veneer cracking slightly with a grin. “I’m gonna make your ears ring, Geoff.”

He laughs, swatting your almost bare ass and kissing your forehead. “You’re a little shit.” And then his posture changes and he’s back to Daddy, you’re back to being his good little boy. He lowers to his knees again, nuzzles into your belly on the way down, sends more sparks up your spine with his fingertips. Now his attention is back at your cock, his lips ghosting over the smooth, sensitive skin through your briefs. His fingertips hook into the front of your underwear and trace along the hairless skin there. Because you’re his good little boy and you’ll do anything to please your Daddy. Your body twitches into the touch as his fingertip skims the head of your still-clothed cock and you gasp aloud.

“Yes, Michael, yes.” He whispers, beginning to inch your briefs down, mouth working hot and wet against every new millimeter of exposed skin. His tongue traces your hip bone, his teeth nip possessive little bites along the soft skin, and his fingers continue to work your briefs down your thighs. He bypasses your cock entirely when it’s exposed to the room and you whimper, clench your fist in his hair and nearly sob as he nuzzles his scratchy, stubbled cheeks against your thighs, spreading your legs accommodatingly.

“Daddy, Daddy please…” Your voice isn’t getting louder yet, but it’s pitching higher, the whine more evident than ever. Geoff is taking you apart, piece by piece, and you’re more than willing to let him. He’s taken you apart before and you’ve always come out of it not just feeling whole again, but feeling like  _more_  than you were before you gave all of your trust to him.

His lips brush your thighs and his fingertips tease your hips, touching everywhere but where you want him, where you  _need_  him. This is Daddy’s reward and it’s as much a test as any of his punishments: how far will you let him go with teasing you before you start making demands? How willing are you to submit to his whims? They’re questions you’ve answered for him again and again, always pushing your own boundaries further, knowing he has a sharp eye on you, knowing that even if he touches the edges of your comfort zone, he’ll pull back before you can even think to worry about it.

Knowing that he needs you as much as you need him.

One of his fingertips traces up the length of your cock and you gasp, clench your fist in his hair and thank every divine being you know that he’s finally touching you. He strokes your cock almost as if it’s some sort of holy relic, his touches too light, to reverent, but they’re  _there_  and where there’s one finger on your cock there will be more, where there’s a hand there will soon enough be a hot, hot mouth swallowing you whole.

“That’s my boy. That’s my good boy.” Geoff whispers against your skin, his tongue tracing over the curve of your thigh. He leans up and lets his lips brush along your cock with that same tantalizingly feather-light touch and you nearly scream, impatience building, hips rocking. He holds you steady, breath so hot on your skin that everything around you is turning to fire. “My good little boy.” He whispers, kissing the head of your cock and making you cry out. “My perfect, beautiful, flawless, well-behaved,  _good_  little boy.” Each adjective is followed by a kiss to the head of your cock and you can feel the world dropping out from below you, unravelling at the seams, everything falling down to the pinpoint of his lips on your over-sensitive skin.

“Daddy…” You choke out the word, almost sobbing from how overwhelming it is to be rewarded like this. “Daddy,  _please_ , touch me I can’t… I can’t…”

“Shh… You can do this, baby.” His lips move on your cock as he speaks and you nearly sob, hand not tangled in his hair desperately grabbing for something. His hand moves up and grasps yours, squeezing back just as tight as he finally runs his tongue along the length of your cock, broad and warm and wet and full of so much relief. “You’re so good, Michael. Keep being good.” He whispers, pressing closer between your thighs, mouthing over your balls and making your knees tremble. His fingers link with yours and his other hand holds you steady as he kisses up the length of your cock.

He’s worshipping you, worshipping your cock like a golden idol, every light touch full of nothing but reverent love. It’s tearing you apart in the best possible way and you know there’s no way you’re going to last long at all when he actually takes you in his mouth, when he allows you to enter him and be swallowed by him. There’s no way you’re going to last more than a  _second_  with his lips wrapped tight around you and his throat contracting around the head of your cock and you don’t want that, you don’t want it to be over that quickly. The choked whimpers and moans locking up your throat can’t convey that, though, so you tug his hair, get Geoff’s attention and, once his blue eyes are on your face and only your face, form your mouth into an o-shape. His grin is devilish in understanding and he pulls away slowly, drawing his lips along your achingly hard cock as he leaves you cold and alone, standing in the middle of the room. From his jeans pocket he produces the cockring, the thing you both love and hate most about his dominance of you. It’s perfect for times like these, for drawing out rewards until you’re breathless and begging, but it’s also been used in punishments. It’s the thing that he no longer uses unless you ask him to, because the last time he punished you with it he nearly broke you, pushed you too far past your comfort zone and if Geoff wasn’t so utterly  _perfect_  at reading you, you’re afraid he would have broken your trust completely with it.

He slips the soft plastic of the adjustable ring over your length slowly, sliding it down to the base and kissing the head again. The pressure ramps up as he tightens it, first to a snug fit and then, eyes still on you, past that. One notch at a time, watching you until you nod. His hands leave the ring and he strokes one finger lightly along your length, making you shiver and moan. “Is that good, baby boy?”

“Yes, Daddy…” You swallow, knowing the answer but needing to hear him say it. “You’ll… you’ll take it off if I say to, right?”

“In a heartbeat, precious.” He pulls you down gently, kisses you slowly and smiles. “No safeword required, Michael. It’s your choice and I’ll be listening.”

“You can take it off when you want me to cum.” You mumble against his lips, arms wrapping around him tight for a moment. “Fuck, Geoff, it feels  _good_.”

“I’m glad.” He pushes you to stand, grinning. “And I won’t even wash your mouth out with soap for that one.” You flush dully, aware of the slip but unable to bring yourself to care all that much. Geoff is a lot more forgiving of your slip-ups when he’s rewarding you, when his hands and stroking your thighs and his mouth is— _oh_.

His mouth is on your cock, lips wrapped around the head and you nearly scream from the hotwetwarm sensation that races through every part of you. Your hand fists in his hair and your eyes screw shut, breath labored as he licks your slit. One hand slips from your thigh to your balls, fondling you the way that you like it, his touches now lacking the adulating softness but it feels so good when he’s a little rough, when his nails scrape your skin and your breath catches in your throat.

“Daddy!” You cry out as his mouth lowers onto your cock, his head bobbing slightly as he works up to swallowing you whole. Your Daddy’s mouth is such a privilege, such a reward, you can hardly believe it’s happening on the occasions that it  _does_  happen.

He hums around you and you sob out another shout of “Daddy!” at the sensation, the ring repressing the bloodflow to and from your erection making you throb, making your vision pulse red around the edges. Geoff pulls off you with his cheeks hallowed and his lips stretched wide around your dick, enough suction on his mouth to make your blood buzz. He kisses the head of your cock again, as if trying to sooth away the angry red color—fuck, by now it’s almost  _purple_ —with the gentle touch.

“You want to cum for me, baby?” He whispers, still fondling your balls, still driving you mad. Coherent words are beyond you, his voice the only thing that makes sense in the ever-growing buzz of pleasure. And even that begins to fade as he speaks again, one hand stroking your cock. “Please, baby, please…” Daddy never begs, you’ve never heard him say  _please_  in his life but he’s saying it now, he’s asking  _you_  for permission and you don’t know how to respond except to tighten your hand in his hair and jerk your hips into his touch.

“Please, cum in Daddy’s mouth.” He whispers, lips tracing along your cock before he swallows you again. His head bobs once, twice, and you cry out, fighting for coherency in the storm of ecstasy that is your Daddy Geoff.

“Daddy!” You pant, hips rolling into his hot mouth. “Cum!” You scream as his tongue does something mind-blowing to your shaft, something you’ve never felt anyone do before (and you’ve had what you like to think is a decent number of blowjobs). “ _Please_!” You choke out the word, sobbing with relief as the pressure at the base of your dick vanishes. Geoff pulls back and wraps his hand around you, stroking as he sucks the head of your cock, hard, like he’s trying to get the last bit of liquid from the bottom of a cup using a straw.

You’re fairly certain that you go insane, at least temporarily.

Everything is white hot pleasure and someone is screaming hoarsely (judging by how scratchy your voice is later, you suppose that was you), cries of “Daddy!” and “Please!” and “Cumming!” Someone else is moaning, but the sound is muffled, unimportant in the face of the earth-breaking pleasure that has swallowed you whole.

When you come around you’re surprised to be sitting on the couch, considering you were standing on the opposite side of the room during your last coherent memory. Geoff is sitting with you, holding you and stroking your hair, his lips tracing along your forehead. You smile, lean into him and accept the kiss that he plants on your mouth, even if it is tangy with the taste of your cum. “Mmm… Daddy…” You whisper in your now-scratchy voice, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him again. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Thank  _you_  for being such a good boy.” He whispers back, holding you on his lap, stroking his hands lightly over your sweaty skin. You nuzzle into his neck and let yourself come down from the high of sex, let your mindset relax from submissive back into your normal state. Geoff’s hands continue to run over your skin, but you don’t particularly mind. “Michael?” He questions after maybe five minutes of quiet, and you look up at him with a smile.

“I’m okay.” You assure, one finger reaching up to twirl his ridiculous mustache. “I don’t know if I’m ready for it to be used for punishment again, but… but it was good there.”

He nods, kisses you quickly and squeezes you closer. “Good.” He looks as tired as you feel, and you snuggle closer to him, letting yourself dance on the edge of your submissive role and your normal nature. Except when you’re angry, the two overlap surprisingly well; you’re always up for being the little spoon when cuddling, perfectly fine with Geoff taking care of you even if you’re capable of taking care of yourself. It’s nice to have a boyfriend who’s willing to dote on you, after all.

Just like it’s nice to have a Daddy who’s happy to reward and punish you in the most mind-blowing ways you’ve ever experienced. 


End file.
